


Stella Maris

by wispmother



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Victorian/Edwardian, Ballroom Dancing, M/M, friends coming through in the clutch, political strife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wispmother/pseuds/wispmother
Summary: Vernon is a young man trying to find his way in a world he feels he doesn’t belong in. Raised in relative wealth and comfort as the middle son of a merchant, Vernon is expected to live up to his breeding: to be a scion for his house, a representative of his father’s company, and an eligible bachelor to attract a well-bred spouse and increase the family fortune as well as secure himself a happy life.He wants none of it.So when he meets Jack Walsh, a foreign dance instructor, and his life begins to change in ways he never could have dreamed, Vernon thinks he's found a way to escape the life he feels trapped by, but some things are never as easy as they seem. How far is Vernon willing to go to do what's right in his heart? How much is he willing to sacrifice to guarantee another's freedom? What is he willing to leave behind to find the life he wishes to live?





	1. 1

Afternoon sun found its way through the gap in the curtains, casting a golden stripe across Vernon’s face. He squinted against the bright light, finally closing the book he’d been reading all afternoon and looking up at the grandfather clock tucked in the corner of his parent’s drawing room. The timepiece was moments from chiming 5 o’clock. The young man sighed, pushing the bridge of his glasses up before standing, setting his book back on its bookshelf.

He’d read it dozens of times; if pressed he’d likely call it a favorite, and he always seemed to find his way back to it. It was a story of a writer, pursuing tales in foreign lands and encountering all sorts of fantastic people and creatures. Truthfully, it was a story he’d read more often as a child, but even now, into his young adulthood, it captivated him enough that on the days when he couldn’t bring himself to see friends or receive guests or study or visit his father’s offices or do…anything his parents expected of him, the story was always waiting, ready to remove him from his home in Kenningmere, Capitol of the Kingdom of Cria Grain.

At times he felt guilty for wanting to escape his life. As the second son and middle child of a successful Merchant who had married above his station early in life, Vernon’s life was far from difficult. He’d never known hunger or want, and his family was well-rounded and well-liked. His mother, Elfrieda, was the eldest daughter of a lesser noble and had given Vernon’s father access to a world he’d previously only dreamt of, allowing him the connections that would allow his business to boom and afford him and his new wife the sort of standard of living she had previously been accustomed to. By all accounts Elfrieda was a gentle, affectionate and kind woman who found comfort in her place in life and had long since devoted herself to the care and keeping of her family and their social lives. Vernon’s father, Sterling, was serious and business-minded. He had always made his expectations clear but was hardly unkind and always generous with his time and knowledge, even with the young men who came under his tutelage as apprentices.

Vernon’s older brother, Odell, was married three years to a young woman named Exie, the only daughter of the Chief Detective of Kenningmere’s Authority. It had been a match that well pleased both parties, but had brought Vernon a modicum of trouble when he felt his new sister-in-law had completely robbed him of the person who had been his best friend for his entire life, until that point. Only once he spent one particularly miserable New Year’s Eve Party with her on the edge of the crowd, both of them unwilling participants in the affair, had he come around and found in her a kindred spirit; someone he was extremely fond and protective of.

Vernon was the middle child, born to follow in the footsteps of his father and elder brother. He was, in turn, followed by a younger brother called Lucien, who was still young enough that a tutor was brought in for him three times a week to ensure he would have a strong understanding of language, history, numbers, and calculations. While Vernon cared deeply about his younger brother, he seemed to be sectioned off in a world he wasn’t allowed to touch any more, and as Vernon grew older, he saw less and less of Lucien, the younger boy spending his free hours tearing about with friends his own age.

Despite this family, both loving and supportive, and an upbringing anyone in the upper circles of Kenningmere would call comfortable and easy, Vernon was restless. He knew from early on that he was expected to be a paragon for his name, a scion of his father’s legacy and business. Not the son that would take the lead one day, but a son that owned a share nonetheless, that would continue to benefit from his father’s work, provided his older brother could maintain that work when their father eventually passed on.

Vernon was keenly aware of his position in life. He was expected to marry well (which, according to his mother, was a task that was long overdue), and help his brother with the business. If the prospect of his father’s business didn’t suit him, he was always free to take up apprenticeship with another business owner, but nothing struck Vernon as something he’d be content to do for the rest of his life. And as far as marriage went… he had tried courting a few people over the years, but none had come with any sense of seriousness, either from them or him, and after a time he lost interest in the process and let his mother fret with her friends at their tea socials about who would marry her bachelor son as he crept closer and closer to old age.

Vernon left the drawing room and headed towards the smaller dining room located towards the back of the house. The larger dining room, the one meant for hosting parties and guests, was across the foyer from the drawing room but it was still and dark, not having been used since the Midsummer party his Mother had held a few weeks back. The smaller dining room was already full of noise when he entered: his mother and father were talking between themselves, his mother clearly excited over something she must have heard while out with her friends. His father, seemingly less excited about the news but engaged by it nonetheless, turned to greet Vernon when he realized he’d entered the room. Vernon returned the greeting and took his seat next to Lucian, who was still reading from a small book tucked almost under the table. Vernon tapped the top of his head and the younger boy started, grinning and dropping the book under his seat when he realized his brother was the culprit.

“Solomon lent me a new book, this one’s about pirates who patrol the Green Sea and try to rob merchant ships. I’m glad we don’t own any ships…”

“Yes, we only have to worry about brigands on the highways, not pirates on the sea. Each path has its own challenges,” their Father said, a slight chuckle in their tone. “Someday Shaw Mercantile will have a fleet of its own… maybe not in my day, but Odell’s, almost certainly.”

A small line of servants emerged from the kitchen, setting dinner on the table and interrupting their conversation for a brief moment. Food was doled out and it didn’t take long for Elfrieda to pick up the conversational slack.

“You will never guess what I heard today on the high street, Vernon.”

The young man pushed the bridge of his glasses up and swallowed before looking towards his mother, waiting for her to fill in her own blank.

“Empress Vira is hosting a coronation ball for granddaughter, Princess Salome. It’s going to be spectacular, don’t you think? Everyone who’s anyone will be there, naturally any eligible young woman would see a perfect opportunity to-“

“I’m not one meant for parties, Mother.” Vernon interjected, seeing where her train of thought meant to take them. “Especially large ones. Besides, you and I both know I can’t dance.”

Vernon and Sterling both jumped when Elfrieda dropped a hand down heavy on the table, rattling the plates and glasses. Her normally composed expression was gone, replaced with a look of frustration.

“Vernon I will not have you waste an opportunity like this!”

“What good will it do?” Vernon shot back, however weakly. He was unused to seeing his Mother as upset as she was, and he knew that trying to argue would be a pointless endeavor.

“Vernon, can’t you do this for your mother? It’s just one night, two months from next Saturday. Find a dance tutor; go to the ball… that’s all we’re asking.” His father’s tone was diplomatic and gentle, but his words were absolute. He hadn’t offered a suggestion, merely told Vernon precisely what he was to do.

The young man deflated in his seat ever so slightly, but relented, turning his attention back to his food. He didn’t have a choice in the matter, he never did.

“I’ll find a tutor and go, if it makes you happy.” He muttered, not looking at either of his parents. His gaze was fixed on a silver tureen of gravy, and it didn’t stray from it.

“That’s all we’re asking.” His father said, returning to his own food. His mother’s countenance returned to a calmer expression and her voice grew softer, as if silently apologizing for her outburst.

“I just want you to be happy, Vernon. I want you to have a life you’re pleased with.”

Dinner passed with no more outbursts, but Vernon couldn’t bring himself to let it go, even after he excused himself to his room. He knew his mother meant well, he knew that she truly wanted him to be happy but in his heart, Vernon had begun to suspect that the path he walked now, the life he lived was not going to lead him there. He fell asleep that night dreaming of far off Empires and fantastic creatures and people far braver than himself.

 

When Vernon finally made his way down for breakfast the next morning, his father had already left for his offices and his mother was nowhere to be found, but the young woman who brought him a small platter of food also handed him a note, explaining his mother had asked her to pass it to him. Much to his annoyance, the note consisted of an address and his mother’s signature. He knew it was likely the residence of an instructor that one friend or another recommended. He ate slowly, loathe to even set foot outside of the house, especially if it meant having to call on some dance instructor. He imagined he was old, set in his ways and stern. He continued to conjure worse and worse scenarios as he set out to the address his mother had left him, and by the time he arrived in front of the old building in a significantly less well-off part of town, Vernon was absolutely certain that the creature that would be his dance tutor would kill him with one look.

He pushed the door open and a bell jingled overhead. The room he’d stepped into was a simple foyer with a few couches and a staircase to the far left side of the room. At the far end of the foyer, to the right, a closed door opened, and Vernon looked up and was thoroughly surprised by what he saw.

A young man with dark grey eyes and handsome, sparsely bearded face had emerged, his dark hair longer than was fashionable but well kept. When he noticed Vernon he smiled wide, straightening up his posture ever so slightly.

“Welcome, are you looking for lessons?”

Vernon was stunned for a moment. The man’s accent was unfamiliar but pleasant, and he desperately wished he knew where it came from. After a long moment he remembered he’d been asked a question and nodded, collecting himself enough to answer.

“I am… is your master in?”

The man laughed, his smile never faltering, and Vernon wanted to be annoyed by this but somehow…

“It’s just me, sir. I’ll be teaching you dance, if that’s what you’re here to learn. I’m Jack Walsh, and how may I address you?” Jack held a hand out to Vernon, who took it in a firm handshake.

“Vernon Shaw, it’s a pleasure. You’re a dance instructor?”

“Indeed I am,” Jack said, motioning for Vernon to sit on the nearest couch. Both men sat down as a young woman emerged from the same door Jack had with a tray of biscuits and a tea set. Jack thanked her in a quiet voice and poured tea for himself and Vernon, offering the man a cup. “I came from a Kingdom across the Green Sea not too long ago, and I was an instructor there as well. From what I understand the dances from those Eastern Kingdoms are popular in Cria Grain these days.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Vernon said, taking a slow sip of tea. “I’ve never been good with dancing…or social things, for that matter.”

“Not a problem!” Jack said. “I could teach a horse to waltz. You’re in good hands.”

Vernon smiled and set his own teacup down. This was already turning out to be completely unlike what he’d dreamt it would be. Instead of an ancient and malevolent beast teaching him dance, he’d found a young foreigner who already seemed infinitely more likeable than… nearly anyone else, if he was to be frank. Jack stood after a moment and went to a side table that was set against a wall. From a drawer he removed some papers and, bringing them and an inkwell and pen, he set the papers on the table, writing in information as he drew up a tutoring contract.

“I imagine you’re looking to have lessons up until the time of the Coronation Ball?”

“That’s correct, that’s what all of this is for…”

“It’s going to be something else,” Jack said, finishing his portion and turning the papers to Vernon, handing him the pen. “I guarantee that you will know and be proficient in at least three of the popular dances before then. You seem like a smart man, so I am certain you will master many more before then, but this is my guarantee.”

Vernon nodded and signed the contract. That must be why his mother sent him here. Three dances in two months, at least? She was hoping for a miracle.

“I’ll bring payment on my first lesson. What is the schedule?”

“I’ll expect you every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, no later than one in the afternoon.”

“Then that does it. I’ll return tomorrow for my first lesson.”

The men exchanged pleasantries and Vernon left, somehow not entirely as upset at his acquisition of dance lessons as he thought he’d be. Jack was unexpected and charming, and something about him stuck at the back of Vernon’s mind in a way nothing had in a long, long time. By the time he returned home, he had made up his mind that he would enjoy dance lessons, so long as Jack was his instructor.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack was right, Vernon catches on quickly, but something else is catching, too.

“One-two-three, one-two-three… Turn, pass… yes, Vernon, offer your hand to your partner and bow. Perfect!” Jack’s voice was strong over the last notes of the two violinists playing simple tunes for his dance practice. They were two weeks into the contract and, as Jack liked to remind him, they were far ahead of schedule. Vernon grinned at Jack’s assistant, a woman named Lucy, his practice partner, who returned the smile.

“Let’s take a short break, and we can review the Lonterre Waltz again.” Jack said, motioning to the violinists before walking over to Lucy and Vernon. “I knew you would catch on quickly, Mr. Shaw. You haven’t stepped on Lucy all week.”

“Jack, be kind,” Lucy scoffed in mock horror, but even her false shock held a hint of laughter. The first week had been a bit of a challenge for everyone, but more so her, as it took Vernon the better part of their first two sessions to understand his left from right in terms of dance. Vernon gave them a sheepish look and shrugged.

“I’d say you’re the unkind employer for making her dance with me when you knew I was trotting all over her.” The bespectacled man said, moving to a chair positioned against the far wall of the small ballroom. Jack followed, sitting next to his student.

“She volunteered, rather than trying to bring in a former student or attract a new one.” Jack said, watching the woman as she spoke with the musicians. “Besides, she’s just a good a teacher of dance as I am, and it helps to have someone like her helping a novice.”

There was a long moment of silence on their side of the ballroom, but Vernon didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, it was one of the more comfortable silences he’d experienced in a long time. That was something he noticed quickly, attending lessons with Jack and his assistant and musicians; it didn’t take him long to feel comfortable with them. There was looseness with their manner that was unlike people of the upper class Vernon belonged to. It wasn’t that they were rude or uncultured…they simply weren’t as stiff. It was as if they could read his mind, and knew that he didn’t care about formality and process and deference and allowed him to act as he wanted and they fell in to match him. Or maybe he fell in to match them? Jack and Lucy and the violinists – a man and a woman named Frederick and Bea – were clearly familiar and on fond terms with each other, and he’d spent the first lesson feeling like he was intruding on something between them. However, the feeling didn’t last long.

Now, two weeks in, Vernon was hard-pressed to think of a place he enjoyed being in more. Part of him wondered if it was outside of the norm to continue taking lessons even after the ball was done. Part of him, however quiet, wanted to call these people ‘friends’.

“Alright, let’s go over that Waltz again. Did you know the Lonterre Waltz originated in the Kingdom of Ichorthaine?” Jack said, standing up and striding back to the center of the ballroom as Lucy and the musicians returned to their positions. “Traditionally, women ask the men to dance this one, and it’s usually considered a seasonal dance for Winter Holidays.”

“If that’s the case, would you have this dance with me, Jack?” Lucy asked, giggling as the instructor swept her into position and they both slipped easily into the steps, without music. Vernon watched them for a long moment as the three count steps spun them around the room, around him as Lucy laughed before Jack bowed to her and then offered her hand to Vernon.

“You dance it so well even without music,” Vernon said, taking up the starting position with Lucy but looking at Jack.

“It’s one of the first dances I learned as a boy, back in Ichorthaine. It’s a favorite of mine. My mother liked to say my heartbeat kept time to a Lonterre Waltz. Frederick, Bea?”

The music started and instinctively Vernon led Lucy around the floor in a similar fashion that Jack had, in loping steps, counting one-two-three under his breath. He was keenly aware that his movements weren’t as smooth, that his stride not quite a long, his posture just a little more stiff. Suddenly, somehow he was keenly away of every little detail about himself that wasn’t like Jack, and a strange heat rose in his chest towards his face. He forced himself to focus, but Lucy still had to whisper a few cues to him, and nudge his hand to remind him to turn out and bow at the end. He threw a glance to her that he hoped she read as ‘thank you’ and she smiled back, gently squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“That was good, we’ve made good progress today.” Jack said, clapping his hands. “That’ll do for this lesson, we’ll see you next week. I think, if you can perform the dances you’ve learned these last two weeks, we can start moving onto more complicated country dances. You’ll really impress ‘em with those.”

Lucy and the musicians nodded and made themselves scarce, leaving Jack and Vernon alone in the ballroom.

“Are you feeling alright?” Jack asked, straightening some of the chairs against the wall. He glanced over at Vernon, who couldn’t meet his look.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“You were more stiff than you usually are on that last dance; you were much more relaxed earlier.”

“I was just… I was trying to focus, and remember my steps. I lost track of a sequence, I think.”

“Don’t worry so much about being precise with steps all the time, Vernon. Not everyone will move perfectly, especially at large balls like the one coming up. The dance is simply an engine for a larger social machine.”

Vernon frowned and turned to follow Jack as he moved around the room.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think balls, parties, cotillions, things of that ilk are for?”

“I don’t know… to… dance? And gossip, if you’re my mother.”

Jack laughed, turning to look at Vernon.

“If only it were that simple. No, Vernon, balls and parties are intricate social gatherings and the dances done there are the safe and acceptable way to make introductions.” Jack lifted his arms into position, as if he meant to dance with Vernon. “Dances are the only chance you get at parties like that to have a private moment with someone without everyone else talking about it for months on end.”

Jack dropped his arms and grinned ruefully at his student.

“Balls and parties and cotillions are all formal and boring matchmaking schemes, if I’m being very honest with you. But if you’re lucky, they can be fun, if you relax and enjoy the dances for what they’re worth. A few missteps in a dance aren’t going to spell social doom, this I can promise you.”

Vernon nodded and went to gather his jacket, thanking the man before he left. Jack’s words seemed to roll around in his head, even as he made his way back towards his home, even as he ate dinner, even as he lay in bed, trying to quiet his thoughts. Even in his dreams that night, where he and Jack were alone in the middle of an endless ballroom and all eyes were on them, where Jack held his arms up and Vernon’s hand joined Jack’s and he could feel the foreign man’s hand on his hip, even as they moved around the room in a familiar waltz and the eyes watched their every move, even then Jack’s words echoed.

_‘Dances are the only chance you get at parties like that to have a private moment with someone…without everyone else talking about it for months on end.’_


End file.
